


Ice Cream

by koalawhisperer



Series: Jimlock Fluff [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Jim Has a Sweet Tooth, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalawhisperer/pseuds/koalawhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this Tumblr prompt - Imagine Jim bringing home a container of ice cream and being so happy about his ice cream, but like Sherlock doesn't understand why it's so important, because it's just ice cream, but Jim is super excited about his ice cream because Jim loves ice cream. (I said ice cream like six times XD) ~Jimlock anon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Cream

Jim was in a very good mood, to say the least. His meeting with the Italian clients had gone over perfectly thanks to a bit of strategically worded threats and Sebastian's presence in the background, so he'd decided to reward himself with his favourite treat. Ice cream. More specifically, the most high-end coffee-flavoured ice cream that money could buy. Of course Jim went for high quality; he had the money to spend on it, and he wouldn't accept anything less than the absolute best. He didn't indulge very often since he was quite proud of his svelte figure, but he figured he deserved it today after a job well done. Jim had quite the sweet tooth, so he was very excited to get home with his purchase.

So there Jim was, in the backseat of one of his black luxury cars, happily clutching his carton of ice cream in its plastic shopping bag as he rode home. Perhaps, if Sherlock were actually in the mood to eat, Jim would share some. Sherlock had proven to have a sweet tooth before, after all; Jim had brought home a pumpkin cheesecake one week only to see the detective eat more of it than Jim did. If not, well, more ice cream for Jim. The car pulled up to the flat he shared with the detective, and Jim got out, heading inside with a bit of a spring in his step. As he entered the sitting room, he found Sherlock at the kitchen table, busily studying something under a microsope with a notebook opened to his right. Ah, an experiment of some sort. Jim hummed happily to himself as he pulled the carton out of the plastic bag and got down a bowl, scooping a bowlful and glancing at Sherlock, a silent request to ask if he wanted any. No response from the brunet. Hm. He had other ways of getting his detective's attention. Jim took a spoonful of ice cream and popped it into his mouth, moaning obscenely as the coffee flavour spread over his tongue. Oh, he was happy. Very, very happy.

“You're in a good mood,” Sherlock said without glancing up from his microscope.

“Mmhm,” Jim said thickly, mouth full of the rich, coffee-flavoured dessert and an absolutely delighted look on his face. He looked as though he were a seven-year-old boy trapped inside the body of a fully grown man. “Got ice cream.”

“I can see that,” Sherlock said. “But something else had to happen. No-one gets that happy over _ice cream_. It's a common dessert.”

"This is not _common_. You of all people should know that I do not accept common things. This is quite high-end, thank you very much,” Jim said, still tucking in to his bowl of ice cream. His eyes gleamed as his tongue darted out to lick up the melted ice cream on and around his lip, and suddenly Sherlock was more interested in watching Jim eat than observing the specimen underneath his microscope. Okay, so that part was...alluring, to say the least, but still. It was just ice cream.

Sherlock eventually snapped himself out of his gaze and returned to his work as Jim ate his ice cream, finding himself rather distracted by Jim's noises, the soft moans and hums of happiness as he indulged himself. Normally, Sherlock adored hearing those sounds coming from his partner when they were wrapped up in each other, both men succumbing to pleasure and carnal urges, but right now, he was working, and he hated being disturbed when he was working. He glanced up at Jim, a sharp sort of glance that said 'kindly stop before I take that ice cream and toss it into the rubbish bin'. What was so important about ice cream, anyway?

“Must you?” Sherlock said peevishly. “Some of us are working.”

“And some of us are enjoying their favourite dessert,” Jim retorted without glancing at Sherlock, though not as angrily as he would have normally. It was impossible for Jim to be angry when he had a bowl of ice cream with the prospect of an entire carton in the freezer. “You know, I think I know what would put you in a much better mood.”

“Let me guess, shall I head to the bedroom?”

Jim gave Sherlock a sarcastic sort of look, teasingly licking the spoon clean of ice cream with his eyes locked on Sherlock before shaking his head. “Contrary to what you think, sex isn't the only thing that puts me in a good mood.”

“Oh, I know it isn't. A good murder, a nice set of threats, actually getting to play your piano or work at your easel, and a meeting that went well all make you quite happy.”

“And ice cream. Or, rather, this ice cream. Coffee-flavoured is the best, of course.”

Sherlock huffed impatiently as he frowned at Jim. Christ, and people said _he_ was childish. Well. At least he wasn't getting overly excited about dessert. It was a bit absurd, really. Jim was positively bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking like a child on Christmas morning as he ate, and all over some stupid, ordinary ice cream that he could get on any day of the week. It made absolutely no sense to Sherlock.

“I don't understand,” he said as he watched Jim put the bowl aside and eat straight from the carton in a surprising lack of manners. It said a lot about Jim and what he thought of Sherlock, the fact that he was willing to forego politeness and eat, well, slobbishly in front of Sherlock. “How on earth can you, a grown man, get so excited over _ice cream_? It's just that. Just ice cream. Nothing to get excited over.”

“How can you, also a grown man, _not_ get excited over ice cream? It's delicious. My favourite. So rich, so thick, so creamy, so sweet. How can you not love ice cream?” Jim said happily, grinning widely at Sherlock as he took a few more bites of the treat before putting the lid back on it. No point in making himself sick by eating too much, even if the ice cream was absolutely delicious. “Come on, Sherlock. Don't you have a favourite food? Favourite dessert?”

“Of course I do, but it doesn't make me as excitable as a child on Christmas morning.”

Jim crossed over to the freezer and put the carton back into it before turning back to look at Sherlock with his arms folded across his chest and his brow furrowed in confusion. Honestly, ice cream was the best; it was one of the few things that Jim would actually admit to loving. How could Sherlock not understand that? He knew the detective didn't exactly have a healthy relationship with food, but still! Surely he could allow himself to indulge every now and then and find pleasure in ice cream.

“Then something's obviously wrong,” Jim huffed as he leaned against the counter and watched Sherlock study him. “Although...perhaps, if I gave you a taste, then you'd understand where I'm coming from.”

“One taste is not going to magically make me understand why you get so bloody excited over ice cream.”

“We shall see about that, my darling detective. We shall see. Now. Humour me.”

"And if I choose not to?" Sherlock said obstinately, looking rather blankly at Jim.

"Remember what happened last time you did that?" 

Sherlock shuddered; he well remembered what had happened. A week spent on the couch with Jim stubbornly refusing to have sex with him, much less touch him. That had been the roughest week of Sherlock's sober life, and it was one he wasn't willing to repeat any time soon.

“Fine.”

Beaming widely, Jim practically bounced over to the freezer and got the carton out, not bothering to get a fresh spoon since, well, they kissed and did many other things with their mouths on a regular basis. Why bother with a clean spoon? Jim opened the carton and got a big spoonful, holding it out to Sherlock as though expecting him to open his mouth. Sherlock scowled and made to take the spoon, but Jim shook his head as he jerked the utensil away from the taller man.\

“I told you to humour me, and that includes letting me give you the bite.”  
  
“Ridiculous. I am perfectly capable --”

Before Sherlock could finish his sentence, Jim jammed the spoon into his mouth, nearly forcing Sherlock to take the bite. Sherlock sucked a bit on the ice cream, letting the flavour spread out over his tongue. The coffee flavour was rich, as though Sherlock had just drunk a freshly brewed cup of coffee, and it was definitely sweet and creamy, but Sherlock still didn't understand what made Jim so excited. But, Sherlock thought as he finished the bite to each his own. If it made Jim happy, then Sherlock was happy. And, going by the rather gorgeous smile and the way Jim's eyes had lit up, the man was very happy. And that was all that mattered.

 


End file.
